


Freaky Fuckin' Friday

by unhurt



Category: Canadian Actor RPF, Canadian Actor RPF (C6D)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhurt/pseuds/unhurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your common-or-garden Canadian bodyswap adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freaky Fuckin' Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rps_advent, back when Hugh Dillon still had hair.

12 hours ago Callum woke up in Hugh's bed. 11 hours and 31 minutes ago Hugh woke up in Callum's bed. It took Callum exactly three minutes to work out where he was and seventeen more to figure out who he was, freak the fuck out and calm down enough to find the cordless phone, stab fruitlessly at the buttons until he realised it was out of charge, dig the cell phone out of Hugh's leather jacket and call his own home number. And call it again. And again.

***

Hugh woke up with an unfamiliar ringing in his ears and a nagging sensation of dislocation. Burying his face in the pillow and pulling the covers over his head he muttered "Christ" and waited for whoever was calling to give up. It was fucking _early_. But the ringing went on and on and on, so he cursed and groped for the cordless, which wasn't there. The room was a little blurry. A little blurry and the wrong shape. He squinted in the half-light as he felt around on the table by the bed for the phone, found it and hit the button. "Yeah?" His voice sounded wrong.

"Hugh," said the mystery dawn caller. In his voice. "It's Callum. I'm in Toronto, it's 8am, and I'm in your house. And your body. Please, please, please tell me that you're in mine and I'm not talking to fucking Dan or Molly or someone."

Hugh sat up in bed, the sheets slipping down to his waist. "I - what? What the fuck are you talking about? And why do you sound like -" he looked down. "Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick. Callum? I need a minute. Hafta go and freak out here." Hugh hung up.

Half an hour later, after Hugh called back to announce that he was not done freaking out yet - and where the _fuck_ was the coffee kept? - it was decided. Callum would get his ass to Vancouver ASAP - "Wear my shades, grunt if anyone looks at you, don't use the taxi service on my speed dial, they suck but I keep forgetting to delete the number." - and Hugh would get his ass back to bed until it was what he called "a reasonable motherfucking hour for dealing with this kind of shit".

Twenty minutes later the phone rang again. Hugh tried to ignore it, but every time the answering machine kicked in Callum hung up and redialled. The seventh time it started ringing Hugh swore inventively, kicked the covers onto the floor and went to retrieve the handset from the kitchen, knocking a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee over in the process and scaring the cat.

"What is it now? Did you break me? Did my cock fall off? Because if not, I am going right back to bed _, after_ I unplug your goddamned phone"

"Jesus. Don't yell. And answer the fucking phone - my fucking phone - when I call."

Hugh rubbed his hand over his eyes. "What is it? It's still hellish early here. Have some compassion, you asshole."

Callum said something Hugh didn't catch, but he was pretty sure it wasn't buddies. Then Callum shifted the phone back to his mouth and went on, "Dillon. Listen. I have to go out _in public_ in this body, so I'm going to need some user information. For example, how in the name of fuck am I supposed to deal with all this hair? I mean, I've heard that waxing is an option -"

Hugh hung up.

***

When he called back Callum was shaving. The echo of the ring tone in the bathroom made Callum jump, and the razor slipped. Holding a handful of toilet paper to the cut, he answered the phone.

"Hi. Trying to not to cut your throat here."

"Just want to make this clear: I want my body back with all the hair I left it with. You can shave - my face, before you get any smart ideas - but that's it. Also, while we're laying some ground rules here, no looking at my wang."

"Uh, I hadn't planned to - wait, how about touching? Your body might want to go pee pee some time between here and Vancouver."

"Okay, you need to piss, you can touch. But that's it. You want to write this down?"

"Yeah, yeah. Rule number one, do not shave head, body, legs or genitals, rule number two, do not play with little Hugh."

"Fuck little! I hope you can deal with the emotional whiplash when you get your own tiny dick back. Gonna be hard, man. I feel for you."

Callum laughed. "Asshole. Play nice with mine. And you see how I refrain from making any childish jokes about being hard? That's the difference between you and me. Even when I am you, I'm classier than you."

"Fuck you Rennie. Make sure you lock up when you leave. I'll be waiting."

Callum went back to making himself presentable. He was careful not to look at Hugh's cock while he was in the shower, but it was hard to get clean without touching everything. He spent a long time under the water, shampooing twice and making sure the suds were rinsed right out of Hugh's surprisingly soft body hair and resolutely not touching or thinking about his hard-on. Hugh's hard-on. Jesus. He'd thought about getting his hands on Hugh's cock often enough, but this was not what he'd had in mind. He hoped they could figure out how to fix this before Hugh figured some stuff out about the usual inhabitant of Callum's body.

***

In Vancouver, Hugh was bored. Bored and chilly. Having finally given up on sleep he had finished the coffee and eaten what he hoped was recently leftover Chinese takeaway he found in the fridge. He paced around the living room three times before he figured out that he was cold and ducked into the bedroom to find something to cover up his skinny-assed arms with. Ten minutes later he admitted defeat at the hands of Callum's wardrobe and slumped onto the couch wearing a cardigan he had ripped on Callum mercilessly for wearing only last month. It was brown, and it itched. He tugged at the neck then stopped when he realised that tic was a Callum special. "Fuck." he said to no-one in particular. "Bored." he said to the ceiling. He picked up the remote, looked at the TV, then dropped it with a clatter. The batteries rolled under the couch. Daytime TV was not really his style. Hugh sat up. Porn. Callum had to have some porn, and he had said to treat Callum junior nice.

Some time later Hugh had looked in all the obvious places. He was warm, frustrated and still porn-free, though he had found an almost full carton of cigarettes. He grabbed the phone and called his own cellphone again. Callum answered, but he sounded distracted and tense. He was not helpful.

"Just, no. Look, I can't believe you're asking me -" he lowered his voice and hissed into the phone. "I am in the middle of an airport here. And what happened to the no touching rule?"

"I'm a rule breaking kind of guy. And I'm bored."

"Hugh. There is no porn. And, okay, now people are starting to look at me. Can we not have this conversation?"

"No porn? Callum. That's kinda gay. C'mon, there must be some. Just tell me where it is, I promise not to hurt it or get it all messy." Hugh was wheedling now.

In the security line Callum squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about Hugh touching his body. "Use. Your. Imagination." He hung up, and switched the phone off for good measure.

Hugh considered taking Callum's wallet and going out to _buy_ some porn, but he quickly decided against this as a plan, mainly because Callum only had $1 and some change in there. Nowhere had porn that cheap, certainly not Vancouver. He lit another of Callum's cigarettes and considered his options. Halfway through the second one he noticed his reflection in the TV screen. He watched himself finish the cigarette. It was weird, being able to look at Callum so intently and not worry about getting caught staring. He stubbed the butt out in the ashtray and stretched.

Imagination, huh? Hugh could do better than that. So, maybe he shouldn't, but this had to constitute a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Callum didn't need to know - he assumed 80% of what Hugh said was entertaining bullshit anyway, especially when it came to sex. He watched his reflection as he ran one hand up the inside seam of his jeans, and rubbed slowly at his growing erection. He ditched the cardigan and peeled off the t-shirt. Fingering a nipple, tracing one long finger down the trail of fine hairs below his navel, he turned back to the reflection. Oh yeah. This was going to be good. Only - he pushed up off the couch - he was going to need some supplies if he wanted to do this properly. Callum might not have porn, but he did have tissues by the bed, and Hugh had high hopes of finding hand cream in the drawer. A quick rummage and he hit paydirt - no hand cream, but honest-to-god lube. He took his haul back to the couch and got comfy. Callum wouldn't be here for hours. Hugh planned to have a real good time while he was waiting.

***

At the airport Callum was making some new discoveries. Like, when this guy cut in front of him in the security line, some internal autopilot took over and wanted to get in his face about it. Or, to be more accurate, punch in his face. Mood swings seemed to be part of the standard Dillon operating system. By the time he negotiated security he was sweating and twitchy and - oh yeah. Horny. Horny enough that a pat-down by an okay looking 20-something guy in an ill-fitting uniform was an ordeal. Callum had no idea if this was some kind of weird side-effect of inhabiting someone else's body or if Hugh felt like this all the time, but he suspected the latter. It would certainly explain a lot. But it was distracting. Amazingly distracting. Yeah, he was checking out girls - or, well, mainly girls - but he could swear that the potted cacti in the window of the overpriced outdoor gear shop were making him think about sex too. He licked his lips and surreptitiously adjusted himself in his jeans. Too-tight black denim. Christ. Why couldn't Hugh dress like a grown-up?

The flight was under-booked, and Callum took his coffee to a window seat near the back. He mentally prepared himself to dissuade other passengers from taking the seat next to him. People always wanted to sit next to him. But apparently there were some advantages to being Hugh Dillon. The sunglasses and the sizeable shaving cut might have helped, but people were definitely not keen to get too close, which was a relief because his cock was still twitching hopefully every chance it got. Callum stared out the window and tried not to think about giving it the attention it wanted.

An hour into the flight he had had enough. He headed for the bathroom, trying not to brush against the cute flight attendant on the way.

Once the door was locked he splashed his face with cold water and told himself to get a grip. He was just taking care of a physical need. There was no need to make a big deal out of this. Take the edge off, get some equilibrium back, maybe cut Hugh a bit of slack in future when he was bitching and moaning about needing some action. Okay, so it was kind of humiliating, joining the mile high club as a solo pilot, and he was definitely about to break rule number two, but he sighed with relief as he slid the zipper on Hugh's jeans down and curled strong fingers around his thick cock. Glancing up from this arresting sight he swallowed at the sight of himself in the mirror, dark-eyed, lips parted, and looking dirty as hell. He anchored himself with a hand on the little sink and started to stroke, staring at his reflection. He was touching Hugh's cock and it felt fucking amazing. This exact scenario is not one he had ever dreamt up, but there was no denying that he was to all intents and purposes watching Hugh get himself off, and that was good masturbatory material when it was just in his head. Seeing and feeling it like this was a rush.

He used his normal grip at first, but Hugh's cock liked it a little harder and faster than that, and he sped up, slicking his way with the pre-cum leaking from the head, swearing quietly through gritted teeth. He tried to hang on and make it last a little, but he was already breathing raggedly, balls tightening. Then it was over, quick and messy, as he came hard, biting on his lip. He cleaned up as best he could with the tissues from the dispenser, pausing guiltily to lick one of his fingers clean – another line crossed - and stumbled back to his seat, mumbling an apology as he pushed past the flight attendant, where he fell asleep almost at once and didn't wake up until they were on the final approach at Vancouver.

***

Hugh woke up to the sound of someone hammering on Callum's front door and the phone ringing. Shit. He was butt-naked on Callum's couch. He made a frantic grab for the pair of jeans where they were lying on the rug and stumbled into the hall. Before he could haul them on there was a crash as the lock popped and the door swung in, denting the wall when it hit. Callum stormed in rubbing his shoulder and radiating annoyance.

"Why the fuck did I just have to break my own door down?" He swung round, kicked the door shut and shot the deadbolt. Then he paused, face to the white woodwork. He reached up and took Hugh's sunglasses off, folded them carefully and slipped them into the pocket of the leather jacket. Keeping his eyes on the door he raised one hand, index finger extended, and spoke slowly and carefully.

"Do you want to tell me a story? A story about why you're naked? Because I would really like to hear this story." Callum pressed his forehead to the cool surface for a moment, straightened up and turned to look at Hugh, who hunched his shoulders defensively and automatically held the pair of jeans over his crotch. Callum rolled his eyes at that.

"I've seen those before," he pointed out.

Hugh shrugged and dropped the jeans, letting his hands hang at his sides. "Hi," he said. "Nice body you got here. Thanks for letting me borrow it, it's been a blast. But I'd like my own dick back now, please and thank you."

"If I knew how to fix this I would already have - I would have - oh, fuck." Callum lost it a little. It had been a long, trying day, and now that he'd finally made it here he was very aware that he had no clue what they were going to do about this. What if they were stuck this way? What about his career? What about Hugh's career? Hugh could act, but Callum sure as fuck couldn't sing. Punching the wall suddenly felt like the best idea he'd had all day.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there." Hugh pushed Callum back against the wall with a hand on his chest. Callum rubbed his knuckles and grimaced at the hole in the drywall. Hugh's body punched pretty hard. "Just hang on a minute before you go off like an asshole. We just have to -" He paused as Callum glanced down and then quickly back up. Hugh looked down too. Oh. Huh. He dragged his gaze away from the erection he was now sporting and looked Callum in the eye.

"Yeah, so, your body seems to like mine. Kinda hard not to notice a thing like that."

Callum cleared his throat. "Ditto here. As if you can't tell in these stupid jeans."

Hugh looked thoughtful, canted his head and eyed Callum for a moment. "I've seen inside your closet today, Rennie. In more ways than one. Got a pretty good idea why you wouldn't tell where you hide your porn too. So, why don't you lay off my wardrobe and tell me how long you've had a thing for guys?"

Callum hung his head, fixed his gaze on the hall table. Hugh shifted his hand till it was resting on his shoulder and waited. Callum didn't look up when he finally answered. "What are you asking here? Guys in general or- ?"

"Or is good. Tell me about or."

So Callum did, in fits and starts, scratching at his head and neck and tugging at his collar until Hugh was itching in sympathy as well as getting kind of cold standing there in the hall. Eventually he interrupted. "Fine. Fine! You're kinda queer, I'm kinda flexible, we've been sublimating some kind of big gay attraction ever since fucking Hard Core Logo. Let's do this."

"Yeah. I- yeah. Okay." Callum ducked his head for a moment then flashed Hugh his own lopsided grin. "Okay. But we need to talk about this 'flexible' thing later. This body gets hard thinking about coffee. How is it you haven't been arrested yet?"

In the bedroom, Hugh shoved Callum back onto the bed, straddling him and making short work of his clothes - it helped that they were really _his_ clothes after all - then paused, cock rubbing deliciously against the fuzz of Callum's belly. He grinned down at him. "I look pretty good from this angle. I should have sex with myself more often." Callum responded by flipping them over and shutting Hugh up with a hungry kiss. Everything was moving fast, Hugh urging Callum on with muttered curses of approval as they groped and stroked and licked, until they hit a snag.

"Where the fuck is the lube? It's always in this drawer."

"I, uh... hnnh. Okay. It's on the couch."

"The couch? Why is the lube on the couch, Dillon? That thing is leather. It's expensive, and a bitch to clean. Please tell me you didn't."

"Okay. I didn't. Now can we go get it please? Your body's getting all impatient here."

"We could do something else. We don't have to, you know, fuck."

"Callum. There are a lot of things I'm prepared to do. Happy to do, even. Sucking my own cock, even if I don't have to have any ribs removed to do it, is not one of them. Capisce?"

"Okay. Nice to know you actually have lines. Go get the lube."

Hugh got the lube, handing it to Callum and sprawled back on the bed, slowly stroking himself as Callum watched.

"Fingers," demanded Hugh. "Fingers now."

Callum fumbled the cap of the lube open. "How do you know I like that?"

"Couch. Earlier. Playing with your ass. Which you should be doing right now." Hugh's voice was rough.

"Jesus. You were putting fingers in my-" Callum gave up on words and kissed him hard. "Turn over." Hugh rolled onto his belly, spreading his legs. Impatient now, he urged Hugh onto his knees and slid two slippery fingers in at once, twisting as he went.

"Fuuuck." Hugh managed into the pillows. "How. How d'ya like seeing yourself like this?"

Callum was panting, adding another finger, knowing his body could take that, knowing just exactly how it felt. He didn't reply, just slid his fingers out and slicked his erection. "Can't talk." he said. "I can't even-" He started easing in, taking it slow. Hugh's cock was thick, and he knew he had to be careful. Hugh groaned beneath him, and he tried to hold back, but his head was full of how this would feel if he were in his own body, full of visions of Hugh shoving into him hard and making him work to take it. It was too much, and he was grunting and pushing right in, hauling Hugh up so he could throw a strong arm across his chest and just give it to him. Hugh grabbed the headboard, growled something incoherent and pushed back as Callum mouthed at his neck and shoulder and fucked him hard and deep and sweet.

As he began to lose his rhythm, fucking Hugh with deep, ragged, desperate thrusts the world shifted and everything slid out of phase for a moment, as if all sensation was being filtered through a pair of cheap 3D specs. Then, for a deliciously brief eternity everything was in perfect balance, and both of them were fucking and being fucked simultaneously. They crashed back into their own bodies with an electric jolt and a hard hot rush of ecstasy. It was messy and undignified and mind-blowingly good.

Hugh fell asleep almost at once.

Later, after he awoke from his post-coital nap they sprawled drowsily together for a long time. Hugh's ass was in the damp patch, but he didn't particularly mind. He shifted a little closer and licked Callum's ear.

"Hey. So why were you so glad it was me? I mean, before you realised this was the universe's way of telling us we should be fucking pretty much twenty-four-seven?"

Callum ran his fingertips over Hugh's hip as he spoke. "Are you kidding? Dan would've taken polaroids of my cock or something. Molly too, only she'd use them for blackmail." Hugh snorted. "She would, really. She thinks I should play more good guys or something. Anyway, I knew I could trust you not to do that."

Hugh shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well the thing is. There was a camera on the kitchen counter."

Callum propped himself up on his elbow and tried to glare down at Hugh, but it was difficult to get into the role, under the circumstances. He grinned. "You really took pictures? Sad, Dillon, very sad. I never had you pegged as that kind of pervert."

Hugh glared back - even less convincingly - then rolled his shoulders and ducked his head. "It's not that. I kind of broke it. Dropped it."

"It's okay. I can get it fixed."

"In the bath."

"Dillon!"

"Nah, not really. It's fine. I just posted the pictures on the 'net."

"Hugh!"

"Kidding, kidding. The camera's fine, I didn't take any pictures. I broke a mug, but I cleaned that up. I even fed the damn cat. I'm a pretty good body-sitter, you should hire me again," he said, lifting his chin smugly.

Callum smiled and settled back down, running his fingers through the hair on Hugh's chest. "Don't know if I could cope with the Dillon experience again. Your body's almost as demanding as you are."

"Demanding? What demands are we talking about here?"

"Well." Callum paused until Hugh cuffed him on the shoulder. "Okay. So I might have had to jerk off in the bathroom on the flight."

Hugh snorted. "I'm shocked, man. Shocked I tell ya. Like that's not normal?"

"I think the flight attendant knew."

"Hey, cool. You get her number?"

"His."

"You get _his_ number?"

Callum shook his head solemnly. "You are such a slut. What am I going to do with you?"

Hugh's grin got wider. "I can help you out there. When I was bored being you this afternoon? I made up a list of the stuff my body likes. I was going to give it to you if it looked like we were going to stay stuck that way."

"You made a list? Did you write this list down?"

"Nah, it's in my head for now. But I alphabetised and everything. Want to hear it?"

Callum considered. "I know I'm going to regret this." He rubbed his chin on Hugh's shoulder. "But go on."

Hugh smiled happily up at the ceiling. "A is for assfucking. B is for buggery. C is for cock, cunt, candlelit dinners for two and – Callum? You want me to explain any of this to you?"

Callum's response was more or less what Hugh had expected. After a little wrestling he ended up on top and Hugh, gracious in defeat, agreed that they could start with K (for kissing) as long as F was next. He had a lot of entries under F.

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back four years on, I'm more than a little amused that I made _Hugh Dillon_ the happy-to-come-with-all-comers character.


End file.
